January 19, 2011
~*~ AF ~*~
Abraham's thumped awake by Honey as she uses the emergency roof exit to get to the top of the bus. "Invaders, at least seven or eight."
She's activating her radio with the emergency buzz even as she disappears. He doesn't wait for more information, just shoves his feet in his boots and yanks the laces tight before grabbing his gun.
She must have her radio stuck to broadcast because she's reporting in even as he hears the sharp crack of her rifle firing above him.
"Seeing at least eight invaders and there's no way they're friendlies, coming in the dark. Got eyes on the west. Christopher, cover the gate."
Abraham isn't the only one using the vehicles for cover as he assesses his best aim. He can see Tim on top of the camper, moving his rifle into position. Honey's rifle cracks two more times, as he hears two shots from Christopher's position. He spots movement on the ground and fires himself, but it's just a shoulder wound, so the asshole gets back up. One of the rifles ends his efforts before Abraham fired again.
The familiar timewarp of battle sets in. He's not sure how much time has passed before there are no more gunshots. Movement in the house behind him has him shouting for the civilians to stay inside.
At his orders, they pair off to search the property, leaving Andrea on watch as the least hand-to-hand combat ready.
He and Honey head straight for the gate with Augustus at their heels. Tim leads Christopher to check the east and Danny and Elias check the west. Oso follows Christopher.
Augustus alerts them before they can hear the idling vehicle. The light of the full moon illuminates the big van as if it were under a spotlight.
"No telling what they got in the van, or who," he cautions. She nods, tilting her head in the way that reminds him just how much training the girl has.
"I can make the shot from here. Probably won't be a kill shot, not through the glass."
He gives the order for her to take it. The rifle's crack is loud and he radios out they took out a getaway driver. When no one moves from the van, he approaches carefully.
The driver is gasping for air, choking on his own blood from the chest wound. Abraham relieves him of the gun he's made no effort to draw and takes the van keys.
It's then he can hear the growling of walkers and realizes what's in the van.
"Don't touch any of the rear doors, Honey. They brought pet walkers."
She nods and opens the passenger door, levering up to peer through the grate, completely ignoring the blood spatter in the cab.
"These are some seriously sick bastards. Mutilated walkers," she reports.
Abraham smiles viciously and sets to questioning their captive.
~*~ Jesus ~*~
Jesus's mind is running scenarios one after another in how to get himself out of this situation. One or two men, even with guns, he can manage those odds and has. But this is three men, gone the special kind of crazy that seems to affect anyone outside secure walls. He's stuck on his knees at gunpoint and cursing his own inattentiveness.
Before he can just take the risk that he can use the man closest to him as a shield, he hears the rumble of approaching vehicles. His captors are smarter than he gave them credit for, since their guns don't waiver.
The first vehicle passes them, one of those big crew cab trucks. A patchwork of weirdness is next, with what looks like some sort of living quarters on the back of a military vehicle. It pulls mostly past and stops behind the crew cab as it halts. The third vehicle is a heavily modified bus. Based on the modifications on all three, they're well-versed at being on the road.
The bus doors open and the driver emerges. Jesus doesn't think the girl looks old enough to drive. She's looking at them curiously, and the odd sight of a girl in a light jacket over a shirt emblazoned with 'I'm only talking to my dog today' over some kind of heavy duty cargo pants actually distracts one of the men enough to drop his gun arm completely and another to partially relax. Only the one he pegs as the leader still holds steady aim at Jesus's head.
"Oh, my, he's a right pretty one," she exclaims in a much deeper Southern accent than Jesus is used to. "Did he do something that needs all the guns or would you consider a trade?"
She's got to be completely insane, because she steps partially between him and them reaching out to tug his toboggan cap off and inspecting his face.
Even the leader is baffled. "What do you mean, girl?"
"Well, if he's dangerous, I wouldn't have any use for him. But he is quite pretty, even with the beard. I like pretty, you see."
She waves toward the bus, where a young man is sitting on the bus steps. He's as casually dressed as the girl and sips from a plastic bottle of Pepsi. Jesus has to admit pretty does describe the man, not that he should be noticing at a time like this.
"What do you want to trade for him?"
Fuck. The guy's actually considering it. Just when he thinks the world can't get any crazier.
"What are you more interested in, food or bad habits? Or a little of both?"
"What kinda bad habits? You got whiskey?" The man who completely lowered his gun is peering interestedly toward the bus.
"Coupla kinds. Makes good trading. Whatcha like best?"
"Got any Jack?"
She flicks her fingers at the man on the bus steps and he disappears and reappears with an actual case of whiskey, lifting one of the bottles above the box top to show it's a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"It's not all those bottles, just eight. Rest is the flavored Jack," the girl explains.
The leader's gun arm is relaxing. "Why they got you negotiating?"
"Oh, sweetie, they're my protective escort. I do the negotiating on trades and they keep me safe, or my daddy'll make being eaten by the dead ones look like an easy death."
The first one who spoke grins as if he's figured it all out. "They's gypsies, Hank. 'Member how the sheriff ran that caravan outta town two years ago? Woman did all the talkin' then too."
Jesus doesn't think the assessment is correct, but he isn't speaking up. If you go with the Hollywood stereotype, maybe. But after she tucks his toboggan back on his head, she puts her hands on her hips and the shift of her jacket shows a bulge at her back that's definitely a gun.
"He's gotta be worth more than a case of whiskey," the leader ventures. "Thought gypsies only wanted babies and children."
"Likely so. Full grown too, which is a blessing in this day and age. Got scavenged medicines, coffee, duct tape, batteries, flashlights, and hard candies."
"Peppermints?" The third one, the one who hasn't spoken, looks interested now.
"How about a box the size of the liquor one, all of the above? Smokes too, if you got any."
She makes another motion with her hand and the helper sits the liquor down on the pavement and disappears. He returns with a sports duffle full of the suggested items and a second duffle he slides the box of liquor into.
The leader shoves his gun in his waistband and inspects the goods. Jesus could probably escape at this point, since very little attention is being paid to him. His curiosity is how he ends up 'purchased' for two duffels of supplies.
The three men move off, snickering when she steps back to his side and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Just hold tight a little longer, pretty boy," she says softly. "You don't want to know what their group does with captives."
He thinks the marks carved into their foreheads do indicate serious imbalance, but he's not certain his young rescuer is an improvement yet.
"What are you waiting for?" he asks, just as quietly.
The sound of a rifle cracks three times in succession in the crisp morning air.
"That. You're free to go, pretty boy. Try not to have any wolves grab you up again." She offers him a hand up. "Or if you want to ride along a while, there's safety in numbers."
She's only half paying attention to him, since there's a man in full military gear trotting out of the woods with the duffels from before and the three men's backpacks. He hesitates to just leave and no one shoos him away as she and the new guy shuffle through the backpack contents.
"Got a map," the guy says, passing it to the girl.
She skims over it and nods before looking to Jesus. "You want any of this? Payment for those assholes holding you at gunpoint?"
He figures what the hell. Part of him is wary, because she conned those men before having them executed. But based on them looking for a map more than the loot itself, they're pursuing some sort of vendetta, he thinks. So, he sorts through the contents of the packs and helps himself, avoiding the knives, guns, and ammo.
His buyer (savior?) takes the map to the driver of the weirdly modified military truck. He can't hear the conversation from here.
"She meant it, that you're free to go," the pretty man from earlier says. He offers a hand. "I'm Danny."
"Most call me Jesus these days." He takes the hand, thinking in another time and place, he would definitely be interested.
Danny chuckles. "Can see why, with the hair and beard."
"You're tracking their group?"
"They attacked a community of mostly women and kids in the middle of the night. We got enough information out of one of them to head this direction. Luckily they're stupid enough to identify themselves clearly."
The guy in military gear scoffs. "Morons think they're wolves in human form. Stupid don't begin to describe it." He scoops what's left after Jesus's selections into the largest backpack before taking the clothing and sleeping bags to chuck back inside the tree line.
"Not enough disinfectant in the world to salvage that," Danny explains.
He agrees. He's ripe himself after a week on the road this recruiting trip with only baby wipe 'baths', but those three made portapotties in August smell better. "She mean it, about riding along?" he asks. He wants to know more about this group before revealing Hilltop's existence.
"Yeah. Don't know if you've got people to get back to, but warm ride's better than a cold walk."
"Y'all headed north still?"
"We're circling back south. Getting close enough to dark to not want to be out in the open." It's the girl again, returning from her discussion. "You can get a hot meal and a shower, safe place to sleep for the night."
"You're being awfully trusting of me, considering how you treated them." It is concerning, from that point of view.
"They already spent any chances by being a Wolf," she says, shrugging. "Tim, you riding up front again?"
The military guy shakes his head and the glance toward Jesus tells him why. He shoulders his rifle and heads onto the bus. Danny settles into the driver's seat and the girl motions for him to precede her onto the bus.
There isn't much in the way of seating as he slides into the empty front seat on the side away from the driver. She strides past Tim, in the third row of seats, and past the final, fifth row to snag a couple things off the shelving in the back. She drops three MRE packages and two water bottles in his lap before taking a seat behind the driver.
"If you're not hungry, stash it in your bag. If you are, can't go wrong with the chili mac or pork rib."
"He says they call him Jesus," the driver calls back over his shoulder. She nods and leans forward to snag the guy's Pepsi and drink from it before returning it
She smiles at him. "I expect that's along the lines that everyone calls me Honey."
"Where is your group from?" Her accent is Deep South, but Danny's is Boston by his best guess. He didn't hear enough of Tim to really determine anything other than it didn't match the other two. But here, not so far from Washington, DC, he can't be really surprised at the variety.
"Georgia, mostly. Escorted some friends home to their family and figured on being on the way back home by now, but then the Wolves decided that little community was free game."
"They aren't the only ones like that around."
"Well, there's at least fifteen less to prey on the weaker folks of Virginia." Her expression is resolute, none of the youthful cheerfulness she displayed for Jesus's captors left.
He glances back to Tim, but the man's absorbed in cleaning his rifle.
He's still not sure he should tell these people about Hilltop, but if they're telling the truth about taking down the predators, at least Hilltop is that much safer.
He'll stick with them a while longer.
~*~ MD ~*~
Merle leans against the table as most of the council trails out to go to supper. "Makes me wish we sent more people," he says to Shane.
His son-in-law agrees. "At least everyone who went is skilled. Hopefully the information the captives gave is accurate on their numbers and location."
He sure hopes so. Being woken in the night for a report from their travelers is not an experience he wants to repeat. At least their people aren't lax in security, so much so that they took out over half the invading force within minutes. Those Wolves never expected any resistance of that type.
"If it wouldn't likely be done and over with by the time they arrived, I would send a team up."
"Hell, I'd lead it." He glances at the younger man, who shrugs. "It's Honey."
Merle chuckles. He supposes that explains most of it. They might face a problem of an all-Dixon team if they sent one now. Would Virginia survive turning Carol loose? "If the intel's right about the group being less than thirty, they're at least halfway through already."
"I'll be completely surprised if they haven't cleared the infestation completely within two days."
"I just hope those idiots appreciate it. Can't believe they resisted the idea of leaving until they got attacked." Part of him wishes their people simply packed up the Fisher family and returned, but considering the children at Shirewilt, he supposes he understands. It's the same concept that led them to stay in the quarry and to rescue Terminus.
"Honestly, it's enough to make me wish we could play CPS and just bring the kids and leave the idiot adults to their own fate."
"Don't think we need to add kidnapping to our repertoire."
Shane just smirks and pushes himself to his feet. "We don't show to supper soon, we may not get any."
"As if either of our wives would let that happen."
He follows Shane out of the meeting room, mind miles away in Virginia. He knows they won't have all the details until their people come home, but knowing his daughter was the watch stander that alerted Shirewilt to the invaders, he supposes now they have their answer about whether or not she's got the mindset of a sniper.
The two on watch took down half of the dozen before the rest were in position to help. He won't rest easy until she's home and he can see for himself how she's coping.
Scout and Honey are most like him in the aspect of seeing the grim reality of the world. Sometimes he wishes they weren't.
But in this world, at least it means they'll survive.
~*~ Jesus ~*~
Freshly showered and in loaner clothes while his dry, Jesus takes a seat in an offered camp chair near the firepit. The temperature is dropping, but not so far that sitting around the fire is uncomfortable yet. Two of the Georgia group are on watch and two truly massive dogs are on patrol around the area.
He didn't meet the dogs until they arrived in Shirewilt because they were riding in other vehicles. It's an idea no one he's met in the apocalypse has tried, using dogs for protection. He wonders if those men today would have snuck up on him so easily with a dog, but a canine might not get out of some of the fixes he's gotten into.
Honey sits next to him, returning from reporting in to her people back home. He's picked up enough tidbits of information between the travelers and the Shirewilt residents to know that there really is a father to report to, just not one threatening her companions.
"All good on the home front?" Abraham asks.
"Yeah. They had some debate about sending some reinforcements, but think we'll be done before they might arrive. But if we spy out a larger group than expected, they'll send a couple of teams up."
"I vote we ask for your mama and turn her loose on these folks," Elias mutters.
"I'm sure she'll be part of one of the teams if they do."
"Are they wanting to stay here?" Jesus asks. He can see at least a dozen issues with a population the size of the one here trying to hold a property this large. It has potential, especially with the river, but the fences have already proved inadequate.
"Despite our example of traveling safely, they don't believe us." Honey shrugs. "And some of us were on the road before, too. Winter seems to slow the walkers down a little. The best we can do for the ones who won't go is good supplies and Wolf hunting."
"How many are going?" He's curious as to why people with few survival skills wouldn't jump at the chance.
"Seventeen are going. Fourteen want to stay."
"Do you think they might travel if some place were closer?" He thinks about Hilltop and how they really need more people just for basic survival. Gregory doesn't entirely agree, but he isn't going to be the one getting his hands dirty with food production and supply runs.
"I'm guessing you have something in mind?" That comes from the burly redhead that leads the group.
"An old FEMA camp about eighty miles northwest of here. The government pulled out, but the refugees already there kept it together. Built a better fence, put in crops, gathered up livestock."
"They have room for over a dozen more?"
"Just about. Could maybe take up to twenty, if some don't want to make the trip south with a closer alternative. Biggest problem is going to be food til spring." It was the only point Gregory made that he could acknowledge as legitimate. Allies for trade are as important as new residents. It worked out finding that group with the flamboyant king and the one out on the Bay. If Hilltop refuses them, maybe one of the others will be reasonable.
Several of the Georgia folks exchange looks, but Honey's the one who smiles. "Point out a warehouse you haven't been able to access and we'll acquire the supplies."
"Acquire." Tim snorts. "First time I laid eyes on her, she 'acquired' an entire loaded Walmart semi-truck and drove it without a single lesson."
"It's not that different from a tractor, geez."
Jesus joins in the laughter. At least this is a group where his resourceful nature isn't a sore point.
"It was a tidy solution," Abraham explains. "Instead of loading and unloading small trucks, the semis just drop off trailers to be unloaded at leisure. Hard part is loading the damned things sometimes."
"Just how big is your community?" he asks, baffled. Hilltop is good-sized community, the middle-sized one of the ones he knows. They're just short of a hundred residents.
"About two hundred, so far. Plus, all the babies on the way."
Honey's casual reply startles him. "Babies?" No one at Hilltop has risked a pregnancy, not even with one of their two doctors being an obstetrician. Hell, their obstetrician is one of the strongest advisors against it.
She nods. "One of our women had a baby on Christmas Eve. Another is due in February and two more in March. I'm sure there will be more later in the year, with all the new couples. And we rescued a baby, too late to save his mama."
"And your medical staff is okay with deliberate pregnancies?" Maybe they don't have any.
"Well, they kind of had to be with the first four pregnancies, since they predate the community. But life goes on, even with the world as it is. We've got doctors and nurses and my mother training as a midwife."
One of the other men speaks up. "There are issues we can't treat now, but that was true before the world ended too. And without doctors overdoing the process as if pregnancy is a disease, they'll be better off."
"Christopher is one of our nurses, although he doesn't find life as exciting in our little hospital as working as a field medic," Honey explains.
"And if women don't want babies?" he asks. Condom requests are among the highest he has.
"Birth control is available. We've got staff who know how to handle IUDs, implants, and the depo shot. Plus, I think they liberated most of northern Georgia's birth control pill supply, although it'll expire soon and be a bit of a risk to take."
He makes a mental note to find out why those sorts of options aren't part of the medication list he's been sent after. Not needing to be concerned with women's reproductive health before, he just assumed the meds would go bad, like insulin, or the pills Honey indicated would expire.
Babies, huh. He kind of wishes he could see that. There are children at Hilltop, but none below school age.
Maybe if Hilltop is stable enough next winter, he can explore long enough to visit their southern neighbors.
Christopher yawns. "Gonna get some sleep before watch. Coming?"
Jesus notes the comment is to Tim, who nods and takes the nurse's hand and follows him. None of the others seem to bat an eye at the two men holding hands and he relaxes a fraction more among these people.
It doesn't go unnoticed. "Is where you live not open-minded about relationships?" Honey asks.
"The subject honestly hasn't come up." He has his suspicions though, especially with Gregory.
She arches a brow. "From what I understand, from both Christopher and my sister, if that's the case, you already suspect it won't be welcome."
"It has always been a chancy issue in the South, as you probably know. The smaller population just makes it riskier."
She surprises him by reaching out to wrap a hand around his bicep and squeezing gently. "Maybe you should reconsider the risks you take for a community that can't accept who you are."
He sighs and doesn't answer. Hilltop needs someone like him to balance out Gregory's arrogance.
"Just think about it, while you've got alternatives," Honey says, before yawning hard enough to cramp her jaw, causing the others to laugh. "You're welcome to a bunk in the camper."
He nods and follows Honey when she rises and climbs into the weird cabover camper hybrid. The men who left are already in the cabover bed. She indicates the upper bunk in the slideout, toeing off her boots carefully to leave them available for easy access in an emergency. He follows suit and takes the top bunk.
Honey stretches out on the dinette bed and yawns. He does a mental count of the people as he hears the two left outside extinguish the fire. Only one of them enters, Elias, and he crawls into the bunk below Jesus. He supposes Abraham must sleep elsewhere, although he can't see the big guy curling up in the truck cab. He hopes he isn't taking the man's bed, although he can't really see him fitting. The bunk is a tight fit for Jesus.
He goes to sleep easier than he expects, waking when Honey and Christopher leave for watch and Andrea and Danny take over the dinette bed. The next watch shuffle also wakes him as Tim vacates the cabover bed and he and Christopher share an affectionate kiss.
Honey catches him watching and surprises him by reaching out to cup his cheek. It's the first time she actually encounters his skin, fingertips brushing his cheek above the beard. He shivers a little, especially when she has to step in closer to let Tim pass by her.
Her smile is compassionate and he wonders what it says about how touch starved he is that it's obvious to this girl. She smooths his hair as if he were a child, deliberately brushing her fingers over the shell of his ear. He warm touch almost burns as she returns to rest her palm against the side of his face.
"Get some sleep. It's safe here." Before he can respond, she moves away, climbing nimbly up into the cabover bunk and grumbling something about sharing the blanket to Christopher.
He dozes back off to the phantom feel of fingers smoothing his hair.
A/N: This Virginia doesn't follow the timeline of before, and the geography doesn't match the show's drunken geography either. The "Bay community" Jesus thinks about isn't Oceanside, which won't turn up til much later (maybe even the sequel). Negan and the Saviors are not yet active in Virginia and won't be for a few years.
